


Practice Makes Perfect

by quiet__tiger



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 22:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10649727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: Tim and Dick take some time to work on a valuable vigilante skill.





	Practice Makes Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Takes places early in Tim's career as Robin.
> 
> Prompt: "Crackers."
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal Jun. 28th, 2010.

Tim flinched when there was a sudden flurry of bat wings above his head, and realized he’d been focusing so hard that he’d stopped blinking. If he could just get the second number of the combination before—

There was a satisfied hum from his right, and he swore to himself. There was no way he was going to get the second number in time to catch up. He tried, though, taking a deep breath and concentrating on hearing the tumblers. Another turn and—there. One more number to figure out and then he’d be inside.

He’d done this before, figured out combinations, but rushing like this was causing him to make mistakes. He just needed to—

“There. Read ‘em and weep, Little Brother.”

Tim turned to where Dick was crouched next to his own safe, its door swinging open. Scowling, Tim returned to his own safe, and needed only another minute or two to open it. That minute or two, though… Damn, it was frustrating.

“I almost had it.”

“You’ll get it. Takes practice. Which, yeah, I know, we’ve been doing. But it’s important. You needed to be able to pick any lock, including safes, and you need to be able to do it quickly.”

“I know that. You just keep kicking my ass at it.”

“Hey, I had to have _Bruce_ kicking my ass at it. Be happy.”

Tim raised his eyebrows—Dick did have a point. Racing Nightwing to see who could pick locks the fastest had to be way less painful than racing _Batman_. At least Dick was Tim’s friend as well as his mentor. Bruce had his moments, and maybe it was different being his ward versus being the kid who figured out the secret, but he was still _Bruce_.

“I am happy. I mean, not that I suck at cracking safes, but there are worse ways to spend Thursdays.”

Dick eyed him up and down, then cocked his head. “Knowing you, short of an evening involving a girl, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. And you do _not_ suck as a safe cracker. You’re actually pretty damn good. You just need practice to do it more quickly. Okay?”

Nodding, Tim shrugged off the hand Dick had rested on his shoulder. “Show me again.”

“If you really want me to.”

“I do.”

So they spent another hour practicing quickly manipulating lock mechanisms in the various practice safes and set-ups in the Cave. Tim had long since learned basic cracking, but he needed more work on speed, minimal tools, and finishing under pressure. Because Dick was right, picking locks was _very_ important for a vigilante.

And Tim wanted to be a very _good_ vigilante.

Hence the endless hours of practice, under Dick’s tutelage, to get things _perfect_.

Finally Dick sat back on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him. “Timmy. You can break into just about anything right now. You okay calling it a night?”

“If we have to.”

“You’re good. We’ll come back to this stuff just to make sure you keep it, but you do not need any more practice breaking into a safe.”

Dick stood and stretched, then turned to Tim with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Besides, it’s time to move on to the next lesson: breaking _out_ of a safe. You know how often criminals use us as hostages.”

Tim gulped; yeah, he did know. And needing Batman to rescue him was horribly embarrassing. “All right. Lock me up.”

“We’ll start small, in the vault where you can actually stand…”

As Dick listed off the different tools used for this particular lesson, Tim tried to take mental notes. He wanted to be the best vigilante he could be, so he needed to absorb the info like a sponge. But cramming himself into a Tim-sized box, with his wrists bound, yeah, that was hardcore hands-on vigilante Bat-training.

Definitely nowhere else he’d rather be.


End file.
